Moby told me in an interview last month that he doesn't go to clubs any more. No shit. After loping through his new record (appended here with a pleasant "ambient" disc), Moby sounds like he doesn't really do anything except sip on herbal tea in his swank NYC loft and "vibe" at his upscale vegan resto, Teany. The best stuff on his blockbuster Play LP was mostly instrumental and sample-based, but Hotel opts for verse-chorus structures, write-by-the-numbers guitar pop and a handful of male/female duets. Even when the Mobe-ster attempts to reconnect with the dance floor he ends up sounding like Alice DeeJay's square uncle. Try not to fall asleep.